The Way That It Is
by eight percent
Summary: Basically fluff. Barba. Benson. Noah.
1. December 2017

A/N Warning: this story contains nothing but Barba/Benson fluff. Written for ajj (this makes us even!).

The Way That It Is

The soft murmurings made her pause at the door and turn her gaze towards Rafael and Noah, the corners of her mouth lifting at the sight. Her son was clinging on to her boyfriend, with all four limbs, stubbornly fighting sleep even with the comfort of Rafael's arms and soft words. Noah had begged - once again - to stay in the park to watch the fireworks but, after days of excitement-fuelled early mornings that had stretched into some equally excited late nights, her boy had struggled to stay awake; the loud explosions and noises of appreciation from the crowds had just about kept his eyes open but the short walk back to their hotel room was proving his undoing. They'd even had to stop at one point so that Rafael could take Noah down from his shoulders and carry him more securely. She'd almost offered to take Noah for the rest of the journey but it had been Rafael who'd encouraged her son's enthusiasm for the fireworks; during the flight to Florida he'd told the four year old that there was a different display every night so Noah had wanted to watch every single time (she wasn't sure how true Rafael's claim was; her own enthusiasm had faded by the second night when she'd switched to watching her boys instead, both of their faces lighting up with wonder and joy and a myriad of colours).

It had been Rafael's suggestion to visit Disney World and whilst she'd been surprised (she'd always imagined his vacations taking place on Caribbean beaches or ski slopes or maybe even a yacht), Noah had been ecstatic. When she'd begun her relationship with Rafael she'd worried about Noah more than anything else; Rafael's previous interactions with her son had been awkward at best but he'd been eager to rectify that - and she'd really wanted him to succeed. After a wobbly start, mostly on Rafael's part, her concerns had proved unnecessary; the two of them now had such a strong bond that it made her insides melt and brought a smile to her lips just thinking about them. Whilst Noah had always been comfortable around Ed, he absolutely adored Rafael (and the feeling was mutual). And she loved that he always put Noah first, even on vacation. Although, after days of twirling teacups, extremely wet water rides, messy ice-cream and the customary firework display she wondered if Rafael was, on this occasion, a very close second.

Rafael turned his gaze from Noah and towards her, catching her staring. "What?"

"I'm just trying to decide who's enjoyed this vacation the most: you or Noah."

"Very funny," he replied, despite the knowledge that she had dozens of incriminating photographs on her phone, including the one she'd taken just a few hours ago of both him and Noah donning the famous 'ears'. "Besides, you're the one who's not stopped smiling since we boarded the plane," he deflected.

Nodding in agreement, her smile grew wider. She'd been looking forward to their trip though, obviously, not as much as Noah but her son's enjoyment (and Rafael's too) had only increased her own. Last year she'd gone to Paris with Noah and Ed but whilst she'd finally fulfilled a long held dream, the history, culture, architecture and romance had been entirely lost on her two and a half year old son. Aside from flying in a plane (and even then it had mostly been the take-off and the landing that had captured his attention) Noah had been bored. This year Noah'd had the time of his life - and so had she. "This is the best vacation I've ever taken," she admitted, unlocking the door to their room.

"The best vacation so far," he quickly corrected, a cocky grin accompanying the words.

Shaking her head at his confidence (he probably had the next thirty years planned out but that was okay: she did too - and he was very much a part of them) she stepped inside the room. Rafael followed her inside, a half awake Noah still clinging to him, and she secured the door behind them. Prising apart Noah's hands she finally relieved Rafael of her son (though he had to unhook Noah's legs to allow her to complete the action) and moved toward one of the large beds that occupied their room. The sleeping arrangements had thrilled Noah (he'd bounced up and down on his own 'grown-up' bed with much enthusiasm and excitement when they'd arrived) but it had made intimacy with Rafael more of a challenge for her. He'd been horrified at the suggestion of making love whilst Noah slept just a few feet away (even though, once asleep, her son was dead to the world and the distance really wasn't much less than back in New York) but they'd found a compromise: the bathroom had a dividing wall and a door.

"I don't want to go home, Mommy," Noah murmured as she laid him down in the middle of one of the beds.

"I know, sweetheart," she soothed as she removed his shoes, anticipating that there'd be a few tears tomorrow morning, along with some heartfelt pleas to stay. A quick glance at Rafael, who was now stood on the other side of the room, confirmed that he'd come to the same conclusion. Maybe she'd let Rafael explain to Noah why they couldn't stay; he could be very persuasive and her son seemed to hang on to his every word. Noah's vocabulary had grown so much this year that, to her relief, he was no longer lagging behind his peers and she held Rafael responsible for that, even if he wouldn't take any credit for the improvement. Continuing to divest Noah of his clothing she decided to try and head off some of those tears: "But how about when we get home we put up the tree?"

Last Christmas she'd overcompensated, determined to make the first holiday season that Noah had any understanding of absolutely perfect and hoping to take her mind off the break up with Ed. For the most part it had worked but in the evenings, whilst Noah had been sleeping and she'd been alone, she'd found herself examining the debris of her relationship. She had thought she was happy with Ed (and she was sure that, in the beginning at least, she had been) but when he'd wanted them to move in together she'd suddenly acquired extremely cold feet. It hadn't been an unreasonable request (just the next logical step in their relationship) but her reluctance had sounded the death knell and arguments had quickly ensued (over work, over her admission that Patrick Griffin had lied to IAB for her, over Ed voting for Trump but mostly over her refusal to allow him completely into her life). When Ed had finally, frustratedly, thrown in the towel she'd been more relieved than anything else but it'd taken her until Christmas Day to realise why the relationship had failed and it hadn't been complicated at all: she couldn't commit to Ed because there was someone else she wanted to be with.

Noah muttered a sleepy 'yes' in response before yawning and not even the thought of decorating a Christmas tree of his own (after having admired every single one in the theme park) was enough to keep the four year old awake. Deciding to leave him in just his shorts she tucked a sheet up against his chin then brushed the hair from his brow, bending down to kiss his forehead and whisper how much she loved him as he fell deeper into sleep.

This Christmas, the first that the three of them would be spending together (when Rafael had casually suggested, amidst the chaos that was breakfast with two adults and one small, and sometimes uncooperative, child, in a kitchen that had not much more space than the bathroom, that the routine might be easier if they moved into a bigger place she'd simply smiled warmly, happy that they were on the same page) was going to be very different. Work permitting, they were going to take Noah to church with Rafael's mother (who absolutely doted on Noah) on Christmas Eve. The morning of the twenty-fifth would be spent together, opening presents and having a lazy breakfast before, if the weather co-operated, going to the park on the afternoon. She'd long since stopped writing a Christmas list to Santa but if she tried this year there'd be nothing on it: she had everything she'd ever wanted.

"We could stay."

Standing straight, she turned her full attention towards Rafael. The smile that had followed his words told her that he wasn't really being serious (at least, she thought that was the case). "Very funny," she replied, echoing his words from earlier.

"Noah would love it," he smiled again, his tone and features so carefree that, for a second or two, she wished that they could stay. Noah always brought out a lighter side in Rafael but here, away from the stresses of his job, he'd been so relaxed; so had she. "And they have their own police," he added on, seemingly keen to make his case, however ridiculous it was.

Busting skateboarders would certainly be easier than catching rapists (and she figured the politics would be much easier, too) but their lives were in New York; their careers, their friends, Rafael's mother, and Noah had settled so well into his new school. Moving towards the foot of the bed where her son was now sleeping soundly, she played along anyway. "And what would you do all day?"

"Sell coffee," he shrugged, then smirked at her. "You could stop by on patrol."

A smile played on her lips as she slowly shook her head at his response. He usually had an answer for everything - though she'd almost caught him out at the beginning of the year when she'd confessed her feelings to him. In the immediate silence that had followed that declaration she'd thought she'd made a huge mistake, that he'd repeat those six words (that had felt like the end but had only proven that their friendship could endure) he'd uttered the night he'd realised she was with Ed and things would never be right between them again but then Rafael had kissed her and the world had suddenly felt right. They'd done things the 'right' way, too (Rafael had insisted) and almost a year later the three of them were like a family, she and Rafael were still the best of friends and their respective careers had remained unharmed. "You've got this all figured out, haven't you?"

"I'm picturing you in the uniform right now," he agreed, his eyes roaming up and down the length of her body.

A short burst of laughter bubbled up from within her at his statement. "I'm picturing me walking straight by," she replied, nodding towards the bathroom door as she spoke so the words could refer to the present as well the fantasy that he was constructing.

He frowned at her, exaggerating the gesture and feigning hurt; "Are you saying that you wouldn't give me a second glance if I wore an apron instead of a suit?"

"That depends," she teased, running her own appraising eyes over him. It was true that Rafael did look very fine in a suit; the man had style and that hadn't gone unnoticed when she'd first met him (neither had the unorthodox methods he'd employed to win the case). She'd spent many an enjoyable evening slowly 'unwrapping' him once they'd got together. Of course, he looked hot when he abandoned his suit jacket, loosened off his tie and rolled up his sleeves, too. And she thought he looked incredibly sexy right now, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. There was no need to tell him any of that; his ego didn't need the polishing and she'd only be repeating herself. A few steps closed the distance and she slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, smiling wider when his hands moved straight to her hips. Without her heels they were pretty much the same height which meant that everything lined up between them perfectly. "Would it be just the apron?"

There was a burst of laughter from him at her words before he leaned in and kissed her, his lips soft against her own and contrasting exquisitely with the five days of stubble he'd acquired over the course of their vacation (his tendency not to shave when he wasn't at work had been a joy to discover). Deepening the kiss and scraping her nails through the hairline at the back of his neck elicited a noise of approval from deep inside him as his hands slid down to her ass. Slowly pulling back, she broke their kiss with a smile and after a quick glance to confirm that Noah was still sound asleep, she started to tug Rafael towards the bathroom.


	2. January 2017 (i)

A/N This is more a prequel than a sequel. Hope it still hits the right spot.

* * *

January 2017

"I take it that your New Years resolution wasn't to spend less time at the office."

Rather than getting annoyed at the interruption a smile slid onto Rafael's mouth. He hadn't seen Liv since the previous year and though that wasn't as long as it sounded (this year wasn't even a week old) it had felt long enough. The smile lingered as he finished off the note he was making and turned in his seat to face her, contemplating her words. If he was being honest, he hadn't bothered to make a resolution for the new year because what he wanted, the only part of his life that he wanted to change, was out of his reach and always would be. And there'd been no chance of him picking something as cliche as cutting down on his caffeine intake. He wasn't going to tell Liv any of that though. "I don't have time to make resolutions that I'm only going to break just days later," he shot back, a trace of a smile still on his lips.

Liv nodded, her eyes scrutinising both him (and his position on the couch where he'd decamped hours ago) and the files (some open, whilst others were firmly closed) that were spread across the small table for a beat or two. There was a further moment's pause when she looked away before she met his gaze again and asked, "Have you got time for a break?"

Concern slowly pulled his lips down to a straight line. "Is something wrong, Liv?"

"No," she replied quickly, a small shake of her head accompanying the denial. There was another long pause, during which he thought she might just turn on her heel and flee the scene, before she spoke again, a little less certain than before. "But there is something I want to tell you and I'm not sure how you're going to react."

His mood darkened almost immediately, mirroring the cold, drab January evening that lay outside his office. A dozen different scenarios whizzed through his mind, all equally pessimistic, before memories of the night she'd tried so hard not to tell him about her relationship with Tucker lodged firmly in his thoughts. He still wasn't sure, all these months later, if she would have told him the truth if he hadn't worked it out for himself; he still wasn't sure if she'd wanted him to work it out. At the time he'd been so angry at the deceit (both professionally and personally) that he hadn't given her motivation much thought; later, he'd tortured himself with the possible (and highly implausible) reasons for her deception. In the end he'd come to accept what he could never have but his heart still ached at the thought that she'd rekindled her relationship with the IAB officer. "Please don't tell me you're back with Tucker."

"I'm not," she assured him but the sincerity was tinged with something else. "But it is sort of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Okay…"

His agreement had been half hearted at best but was apparently enough for her to close his office door (there was really no need; it was late and most people were now in a bar drinking away the day's disappointments or at home with their families) and move toward the couch, taking a seat next to him, just as she had done so many times before. "I never told you why it didn't work out with Tucker."

"No, you didn't," he agreed. Unlike his ignorance during the beginning of her relationship with Tucker, she had told him when it was all over; in fact, he'd been the first person Liv had confided in but she'd never offered any details and he hadn't asked. He hadn't wanted to know; picking over the remnants of her failed love life wouldn't have made him feel any better about her heartache or her choice in men. It would have hurt far too much (and would have reinforced the fact that she only thought of him as a friend) though he would have endured it for her. He might still have to; they were friends, after all (and he didn't have many of them) so if he could find a way to support her relationship with Tucker then he could do the same for its demise. If he really had to. "Please don't feel that you need to tell me."

"I want to. It's taken me far too long to figure it out," she said firmly, pausing and meeting his eyes until he finally nodded his agreement that she should continue. "He wanted us to move in together, to play a bigger part in Noah's life but I knew, almost straight away, that it wasn't what I wanted. I couldn't really explain why because I didn't truly understand myself. Not until you phoned me on Christmas Day."

Rafael nodded again, feeling that he should fill in the pause with something (and he didn't trust himself not to give an exhaustive list of reasons why the relationship might have failed if he opened his mouth) because he didn't quite understand what she was telling him or why his phone call was even pertinent. He'd called her on Christmas Day because his plans to speak to her, in person or otherwise, the day before had fallen apart when one of his cases had done the exact same thing. He'd spent all of Christmas Eve, and much of the next morning, trying to rescue that case (and had incurred his mother's wrath by missing church; he was going to have to make it up to her this year) and hadn't found the time to call Liv. The conversation that afternoon had lasted a short while but they'd not spoken about anything of importance; he'd wished her and Noah a Merry Christmas, asked how they were enjoying the day and had listened with a smile on his face as Liv had tried to answer, struggling to be heard over an excited Noah. It was what friends did.

"I was so happy that you called and later on, when Noah was asleep, I realised why. When I think about the future, Tucker's not the man I picture standing next to me, squabbling over the dishes or what to watch on the TV or which college Noah should attend. It's you that I see."

He opened his mouth, ostensibly to ask her to repeat what she'd just said (because he was sure he'd misheard or he was having a stroke or there was a TV crew waiting to burst into his office and tell him this was all a prank) but any words would have sufficed. Anything at all, so long as he didn't look like a fish that had just been pulled out of the water. But nothing came out of his mouth. To be fair, his brain was working extremely hard trying to comprehend what she'd said so maybe it was for the best that his mouth concentrated on the breathing part.

A small, almost shy, smile appeared on her lips, "I want to be with you, Rafael."

Mouth still gaping, the best his brain could come up with in response was the suggestion that he'd fallen asleep in his office (it wouldn't be the first time) and this was all a dream. He thought about pinching himself, just in case; then he thought about pinching Liv and all attempts at putting together a response were forgotten for a little while. Thankfully his hands remained as uncooperative as his mouth.

"It's okay," Liv frowned into the silence, her head and eyes dropping away from him. "I had to tell you how I felt. I need to know that it's never going to happen otherwise the possibility that it might is just going to derail any future relationship."

Words still seemed beyond him; he wasn't sure there were any - in either of the languages he was fluent in - to do the situation and himself any sort of justice. He'd spent the better part of a year suppressing his feelings for her in the belief that she'd never reciprocate and now she was telling him that wasn't the case at all. It was all he'd wanted to hear for so long but his supposedly superior brain failed him further by reminding him that Liv was his friend and colleague, both of which could be at risk if he pursued a relationship with her. It also failed to alert him to the fact that she was withdrawing her admission in the mistaken belief that his ongoing silence meant that he wasn't interested in her and she'd just made a fool of herself.

Liv stood slowly, her escape achievable in just a few short steps and it was enough to finally spur him into action. His hand reached for hers as he rose from the couch, the gesture making her pause and turn back toward him. There was a flicker of hope in her eyes, along with what looked like a dozen questions and he still didn't feel capable of articulation. His mouth (and the words that fell forth from it) had always been his strength; he could destroy a witness on the stand, sway a jury with his argument, hobnob with every politician at every event that he was compelled to attend and cut down annoying detectives with law degrees who thought they knew better than him. But even though words had abandoned him he could still use his mouth to make her understand that he wanted her.

He leant forward slowly, pressing his lips against her own in a gentle kiss as he stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. Her free hand immediately reached for his tie (loosened hours ago so he could unbutton the collar of his shirt, naturally) deepening the kiss and anchoring him to her. It turned out that his fantasies of kissing her (which had begun the day they'd met when she'd challenged his court room abilities and he'd decided to show her just how good he was) had come nowhere close to the reality and his other hand reached for her cheek, determined to discover if her skin was as soft as he'd always imagined it to be. It was. His fingers itched to travel further down, to take in the smooth surface of her neck and more, but his brain flagged up his current work based location and questioned exactly where their actions were leading them. Reluctantly, he broke off their kiss, dropping his hand from her neck (where it had wandered anyway) but twined the fingers of his other hand with hers.

She smiled widely at him as her fingers spread out from his tie to rest on his chest, just over his heart. "That's some opening statement."

A smile blossomed on his own lips. There would be things to consider: Noah, their careers, their working relationship (in some ways it seemed more daunting than any trial) but, in that moment, nothing seemed insurmountable. The only hurdle had been his misapprehension about her feelings for him and that had now gone. They just needed to do things the right way. "I've got a very good case too," he smiled, moving his free hand to rest over hers. "And I'm definitely going to win."


	3. January 2017 (ii)

A/N ANother bit of fluff. Big thank you to BenoightLangson, BJ and untapdtreasure for sticking with this.

January 2017 (ii)

The knock at her door caused the nerves, which had settled for quietly bubbling away in the pit of her stomach for most of the afternoon, to launch into a frenzy. She hadn't felt this way the night before last when she'd told Rafael exactly how she felt and what (who) she wanted. Even when Rafael had remained silent in the face of her declaration a strange sort of certainty had flowed through her veins; in the days leading up to her confession she'd convinced herself that it would be better to be honest and face the possible consequences than to continue on in denial. That mindset had faltered just a little when it had seemed that Rafael had no interest in taking their friendship in another direction but then he'd finally responded, his lips against her own and the fierce thumping of his heart beneath her hand more persuasive than any words could have been at that moment.

Leaving Noah playing happily on the floor by the couch she stood and walked toward the door, exhaling long and slow in an attempt to stop her stomach from fluttering so wildly. It didn't work; in fact, as she opened the door and saw Rafael standing there, dressed casually (but still smartly), it only increased. "Hi."

"Hi." He followed the greeting with a confident smile and stepped inside the apartment, that assured demeanour showing a small crack when he hovered close by her as she shut the door rather than venturing further into the apartment.

Taking hold of the lapels of his coat, she softly pressed her lips against his own, hoping to soothe some of their unease. After their first kiss in his office she'd wanted more (much more; there'd been a perfectly good couch available) but Rafael, having finally found his voice, had wanted to talk instead. His words that night (his assurances that he wanted the same things that she did; his absolute certainty that they could make this work) had held more weight than a quickie on his office couch. Plus, he'd wanted to keep their personal relationship separate from their professional one and she hadn't been able to disagree with that. Still, she'd dreamt about him that night and had spent far too much time since then longing for his touch. The way his hands gripped her hips, pulling her toward him as he claimed her mouth once more, told her that the feeling was mutual.

The sound of tiny footsteps approaching brought the kiss to an abrupt end (though she was intent on picking it back up later) and she offered Rafael a quick reassuring smile, still holding on to him even as she turned her attention toward her son. "Hey sweetie, look who's here. It's Rafael."

Noah, a toy car clutched in one hand, stopped short and looked up at both adults with an inquisitive gaze which made Rafael immediately remove his hands from her body.

It was unclear whether her son's scrutiny was aimed directly at her, at Rafael or at both of them but she felt it keenly regardless. Noah had asked about Tucker after the split and she'd had a hard time explaining why the man she'd brought into her son's life would suddenly no longer be a part of it; Noah had accepted her flimsy explanation and had never mentioned Tucker again but she'd been harder on herself, questioning why she'd introduced them to each other when she hadn't really known where that relationship was heading. It was different this time (she and Rafael had discussed the direction at length) but she worried that the debacle with Tucker might make it harder for Noah and Rafael to bond. Releasing her hold on Rafael she stepped toward her son, leaning down to sweep her hand reassuringly over his head. "He's staying for dinner, remember?"

"Pizza for dinner?"

"That's right," she grinned, happy that he'd remembered at least some of their conversation. Pizza with Noah in her own apartment wasn't how she'd imagined her first date with Rafael but getting to know each other over a series of candlelit dinners in fancy restaurants wasn't really necessary; she knew him better than anyone and she'd told Rafael things that she'd never shared with anyone else (there were still secrets to be revealed but she was looking forward to discovering all of them). And despite his lack of experience with small children, Rafael had wanted to include Noah from the outset. She'd spent the afternoon doing all she could to help this evening go as smoothly as possible. Noah hadn't seen Rafael in such a long time (dating Ed had meant there was little room for a third man in her life and her falling out with the ADA had only widened that gap) so she'd dug out the one photograph she had of the two of them together (quickly snapped by Carisi at the adoption party she'd held) to convince her son that she wasn't bringing another strange man into his life. As pizza was Noah's current food obsession (though it had to be plain cheese and he wouldn't go anywhere near the crust) tonight's menu had been an easy decision. "Are you going to say 'Hello' to Rafael?"

"Hello," her three year old said shyly.

"Hey, Noah," Rafael ventured carefully as he removed his coat and scarf. The garments found a home on the coat rack as he edged toward her son, squatting down to speak to Noah, keeping his voice gentle and refraining from descending into baby-talk. "What've you got there?"

The look that Noah shot Rafael fell somewhere between disbelief and pity but her boy's sweet nature quickly shone through as he placed the toy car on the floor (she'd spent a small fortune on presents for her son at Christmas only for the boy to favour a cheap piece of gaudy plastic that she'd picked up at the store just because he'd smiled so sweetly at her when he'd asked for it) and pushed it toward the ADA, accompanying the explanation with a long, over exaggerated sound of a car engine, "Brrrm."

"That's the best car I've ever seen," Rafael smiled in response (no doubt taken by the colour; she was sure he owned a tie or two in the exact same shade). He turned the toy car around (in an impressive if not unlikely u-turn that just might explain why she'd never seen him drive a vehicle) and pushed it back to Noah, making the same sound effect as her son.

A smile drifted slowly onto her lips at the interaction. Rafael had been confident that he could win over her son but she'd known (and his unease just moments earlier had proven) that it was mostly bravado. Yet, as her son grinned up at Rafael, his favourite toy car safely clutched to his chest, she knew that he would succeed. The nerves swirling around her belly started to fade as Rafael caught her gaze and offered a smile that was neither smug nor triumphant. She cleared the emotion from her throat, "Drink?"

Rafael stood, his eyes still on hers. "Coffee would be great, Liv."

Nodding, she held his gaze instead of heading into the kitchen as, in her peripheral vision, she caught her son closing the small distance that lay between him and Rafael. Noah, favoured toy car (it had even usurped, much to her displeasure, the plastic police cruiser that had been a constant for so long) still firmly in his grasp, stopped at Rafael's feet and held up both hands toward the ADA. Her heart immediately began to melt at the sight; Rafael's perplexed reaction almost turned it to mush. His eyes flickered back to hers, gratitude shining through when she elucidated, "He wants you to pick him up."

He reached down and complied immediately, but very awkwardly, with Noah's request; a combination of hands, arms, hips and gravity (and minus any of the elegance she usually associated with him) ended with her son finally in her ADA's arms. The promise of coffee was briefly forgotten as she silently watched the two of them, Noah taking the opportunity to study their guest more closely and Rafael bearing the cross-examination with a smile. All thoughts of moving from her vantage point were abandoned completely when Rafael began to speak and she shamelessly eavesdropped.

"I'm sorry, Noah. I'm not very good at this so you're going to have to be very patient with me. But I am going to try my very best and if you could help me, if you could let me know where I'm going wrong or what you want, I'd really appreciate it. Do you think you could do that?"

A series of vigorous nods from Noah was followed by, "Play cars with me!"

Liv smiled at the order (because it most definitely was not a request; she really needed to remind her son of his manners but Rafael had asked, after all) and it widened further when Rafael consented, moving towards the centre of the apartment where Noah had earlier spread out a play-mat that was adorned with roads, along with a good selection of his toy cars. Putting her son down on to the floor proved an easier task than picking him up and a warm, relaxed feeling settled inside of her. There was a long way to go but, as Rafael knelt down to play with Noah, it was a promising start.


	4. March 2017

A/N Just more fluff, I'm afraid. Big thank you to everyone who left a review for chapter three - this part is for you guys. Hope you enjoy.

March 2017

The little toy boat bobbed around, floundering a little in the wake caused by a three year old's hand breaking through the surface of the water perilously close to its stern but it managed to stay upright. The action had also sent splashes of water in Rafael's direction but he simply laughed along with Noah, his shirt already wet from trying to bathe the boy (thankfully he'd already removed his jacket and tie; the status of his trousers, currently in contact with the bathroom floor, was yet to be ascertained). He was sure that Liv never got this wet whilst bathing her son but she'd had years of practise; he'd only had a couple of months, during which bath time had always been Mommy and Noah time. When he'd offered to take care of her son this definitely hadn't been part of his plans but dinner had got a little… messy (he was still counting it as a success because, even if some of the food hadn't made it into his belly, Noah had cleared his spaghetti and sauce laden plate).

Drawing his hand through the bubble filled water, he cleared a path for the boat to make a return journey to its captain then turned the vessel around, pushing it back to Noah. It had been clear from the outset (and in those moments prior to that, when he'd caught himself thinking about a life with her) that a future with Liv would also include her son but he'd been less confident about how well that would work out than he'd told her. His experience with small children was negligible and he hadn't seen Noah in such a long time that he hadn't been sure if Liv's son would hide in his room or cling to his mother when he'd walked into her apartment back in January. Thankfully (because he'd been prepared to walk away rather than come between Liv and her son) neither outcome had occurred and he'd spent a few, slightly awkward and fairly bemused, hours with a three year old who'd, quite inexplicably, taken a shine to him (and then the rest of the night getting to know Liv much more intimately).

Noah tugged the boat closer when it began to run out of impetus, turning his head to Rafael, "Boats can go fast, Raf?"

He tried to keep the smile from forming on his mouth but failed miserably. It'd been one thing getting used to Liv calling him by his first name (and the subtle variations of it that he could extract during the throes of passion) but another entirely hearing Noah (who had never quite mastered all six letters of his name and had seemingly given up trying) use it, usually as a precursor to a question. This new direction that his life was taking was in stark contrast to the old; he used to spend his free time socialising with adults who owned their own yachts and now he was entertaining a three year old who was the proud owner of a plastic boat. But he knew which he preferred; no-one was happier to see him, excitedly shouting out his name as if it had been years since they'd last met, than Noah. "If they've got an engine a boat can go very fast," he answered, trying to keep the explanation short.

"Like a car?"

"That's right," he nodded, smiling encouragingly. Earlier in the evening, they'd (sort of, anyway; Noah's attention had wandered at various points) watched 'Cars' for what felt like, but couldn't possibly be, the hundredth time (actually, he kind of liked the movie; the sleek porsche was a prosecuting lawyer and he was coming round to the notion that sometimes it was nice to slow down). But sailing vessels were a welcome change of topic. "But a boat with sails uses the wind to move across the water instead."

A look of concentration furrowed the boy's brow for a brief moment as he considered the extra information. "Pirates!"

"Arrr, Captain," he confirmed, using his best pirate voice.

Noah giggled at the silly voice. "Arrr," he repeated with a grin before focussing his attention back on the little plastic tug boat, pushing it through the water and into some of the suds that had started to close in again, as he mimicked the sound of a motor car.

Rafael cleared a path through the water again and reunited the captain with his boat. In retrospect he might have used too much bubble bath but at least he'd managed not to get shampoo in Noah's eyes (the bottle had promised that the product was tear-free but he hadn't wanted to test that claim). And he'd gone easy on the water too, even though he had no intention of leaving the little boy unattended. The ways in which he could possibly, unintentionally, hurt Noah that had dented his confidence in the beginning (he'd been devastated the first time Noah had burst into tears in front of him, despite Liv's reassurances that her boy had just been tired) had now morphed into all the ways that the world could potentially hurt Noah.

It was, quite frankly, terrifying. He had no idea how Liv had done this all by herself for so long. And he wasn't entirely sure why she had agreed to let him do this alone.

The logical part of him was trying to chalk up her assent as nothing more than convenience; Liv was waist-deep in a case and Lucy had long-standing plans that could not be changed. The precinct had been a whirl of activity but there'd been little he could do at that point in the investigation other than, in a blaze of confidence (which had withered slightly once Lucy had left the apartment), offer to take care of Noah. The sentimental side of him was pushing for a greater, deeper meaning; Noah was the most precious person in Liv's life but she hadn't hesitated to accept his offer. Sure, he'd done most of the basics before (cooking food that Noah would actually eat, playing with him, putting the boy to bed) but not all together and never by himself. Liv had always been close by if he'd needed her. He was leaning toward the emotional response because it reinforced his belief that they could make this work; that Liv wanted this as much as he did.

Much to his relief, Noah had been completely unfazed by the prospect of spending the rest of the day with him, too. He'd been spending more and more time in the Benson home so his presence wasn't an entirely unusual occurrence but getting Noah's consent for this bold new step had meant as much to him as Liv's graceful acceptance. During the last couple of months his feelings for Liv had only grown stronger but something quite unexpected had happened, too. The little boy who had enthusiastically taken his request for help to heart (helpfully telling him which cartoons he liked, which vegetables he didn't like and why all games were best played whilst sprawled out on the floor), and who was now attempting to blow the boat across the water, had stolen a huge chunk of his heart. "Five more minutes, Noah."

Noah's eyes turned back toward him, this time with sadness and accompanied by the smallest, but cutest, pout he'd ever seen. "I can have longer? Please, Raf…?"

There was no doubt in his mind that Noah was Liv's son (her ability to talk him into taking on cases against his better judgement paled in comparison to her powers of persuasion outside of work) and it was just as difficult to say 'no' to the boy. "Okay, ten minutes and then it's definitely bed time," he acquiesced, completely unable to imbue the words with any kind of authority.

"And a story?"

"You can have as many stories as you want," he agreed easily. He still had to put away the toys that were strewn across the couch and floor, clean the kitchen and go through the e-mails he'd been ignoring for most of the afternoon but that could all wait a little longer. Reading Noah a bedtime story had recently become one of his favourite parts of the day (waking up with Liv was just one of the others).

A victorious grin spread across Noah's face as he went back to pushing the boat (there were other bath toys - even a mean looking shark - but the boy had taken a liking to the little tug boat) around the bathtub.


	5. March 2017 (ii)

A/N Big thanks for all the feedback. Hope everyone reading enjoys this next part - it's a little continuation of chapter four. More fluff but, fair warning, I seem to have wandered into mush now, too… Fluffy mush? Mushy fluff? Or just too much?

March 2017 (ii)

The silence that greeted her as she opened the door to her apartment wasn't entirely unexpected. When she'd phoned earlier, Rafael had informed her (quite proudly) that Noah was tucked up in bed, sound asleep, and that he was catching up on some work whilst it was quiet. Locking the door, she rid herself of her bag, coat and boots (the latter with some relief), and moved further into the apartment, pleased with her stealthy movements when she found Rafael asleep on her couch, legs (and brightly coloured socked feet) stretched out across the cushions and an open file in his lap. Since their 'first date' (when she'd asked him to stay the night, repeating that request the following morning when Rafael had queried whether he should leave before Noah woke) he'd spent an increasing amount of time in her home so she'd had no concerns about him being here on his own with her son. She smiled at the sight of a slightly dishevelled Rafael Barba but thoughts of waking him were postponed in favour of checking on her son.

After a quick detour to her bedroom to deposit her gun and badge, she quietly slipped inside her son's room, her smile resurgent as she laid eyes on Noah. One small step took her to his bedside and she knelt down, gently brushing her fingers through his hair. She'd spent most of the day co-ordinating a search for a missing child and trying all the while not to put herself in the parents' shoes; she'd failed, of course, because any case that involved a child invariably sent her thoughts directly to Noah. Even the best possible conclusion for the day (the angry-at-his-parents missing boy being located unharmed) and the knowledge that Noah was safe at home with Rafael hadn't eased her need to see her son. With that need sated, she straightened the blanket around Noah and gave him a goodnight kiss (and a whispered apology for not getting home sooner), leaving the door ajar once more as she left the room.

A contented sigh took her past the kitchen and toward Rafael, where a brief touch of her lips against his, as she leant over the back of the couch, was enough to rouse him, along with a sleepy rendition of her name (something that she was never going to tire of hearing). Surprise at her presence, at having fallen asleep on her couch, was written all over his face but she decided not to tease him too much; not only had he looked after her son but her apartment was reasonably tidy, too (Rafael was much neater than she was - she'd seen his apartment and it was immaculate - but he was slowly succumbing to her and Noah's standards). "Did Noah wear you out?"

"In my defence, I wore Noah out first," he protested with a smile, briefly checking his watch before gathering up the papers he'd been working on and swinging his legs down on to the floor.

"And how many stories did that take?"

Rafael grinned at her in response, absently setting his paperwork to one side as he watched her slowly circle the couch. "Two," he replied, as she finally completed the circuit.

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow and stared down at him. When Noah had first asked, just a few weeks ago, if Rafael would read him his bedtime story, she'd had to reassure her boyfriend that he wasn't stepping on her toes (any sting she'd felt from her boy's casual dismissal of her own services had been soothed by Noah's choice of replacement). It turned out that Rafael had a knack for storytelling, which really shouldn't have come as such a surprise to her; she'd watched him in the court room for long enough, quietly marvelling how his choice of words and the timbre of his voice could catch out a criminal, tie an expert in knots, and sway an entire jury. Listening to him read a bedtime story to her son, making up silly voices and bringing the tale to life, was something else entirely and Noah couldn't have agreed more. Two stories would never be enough for her son.

"I may have read both of them more than once," he confessed, reaching out for her and she slipped her hand into his, his skin warm and smooth and now so familiar to her, letting him gently tug her down on to the couch beside him. They met half way for the sweet kiss that followed, both of them savouring the contact. Somewhere in the midst of the kiss his hand had moved to her leg, resting on her knee and it remained there as their lips parted, his gaze studying her more closely, "You must be worn out, too."

"It has been a long day," she agreed, placing her hand on top of his, still wanting more of that connection. "Knowing that you were here with Noah made it easier. Thank you for taking care of him."

He shook his head slightly. "You don't need to thank me, Liv. I wanted to be here, for you and for Noah."

When he'd offered to step in this afternoon she hadn't hesitated to accept. He'd made it clear to her from the outset that this, here with her and Noah, was what he wanted and the reality of dating a busy mother of a three year old hadn't changed his mind. Exploring this new dynamic (as they tried to maintain their existing working relationship) had been a little difficult in the beginning but it had helped that her son had taken to Rafael almost immediately (which wasn't hard to understand; he willingly gave Noah his time and attention, along with a boatload of patience). Building Rafael's confidence with Noah was a work in progress so there'd been no chance of her turning down his offer earlier today (even though learning to share her son was her own personal work in progress). "We wanted you here, too. Especially Noah."

Rafael offered her a small shrug and tentative smile, "He seemed happy enough to see me this afternoon."

"He adores you," she assured him, squeezing his hand and his smile grew a little. In a way, it was kind of cute that her Harvard educated boyfriend struggled to accept just how important he'd become to her son's world. Noah would be heartbroken if Rafael was no longer in his life but that, thankfully, seemed unlikely. There was little chance of her pushing Rafael out of their lives either; every time he made her smile or her son laugh (which was also guaranteed to make her smile) she fell a little bit more in love with him. At very nearly three months in, it didn't feel too soon to be thinking about that word; she'd known him for so long that sometimes she thought it had taken too much time. "Almost as much as I do," she added on quietly.

"That much?"

It wasn't clear from his question if he knew just how much she loved him or if he was still not convinced that Noah could possibly feel that way about him, too. There was one part that she could clear up. "That much," she agreed before kissing him, deeper and longer than before and in the hopes of conveying those three little words that she felt so strongly but found so difficult to say. It seemed to work, too.

"I love you, Liv," Rafael whispered (and far braver than she had been), relinquishing his hold on her knee in favour of entwining his fingers with hers. "But you should know that you have some serious competition for my heart from Noah."

A lump had formed in her throat at his initial declaration; she'd felt, she'd hoped. that they were in sync but to hear him say it out loud, to have him confirm his feelings for her, had stunned her into silence. The way he had casually confessed his growing feelings for her son (smoothly, and understandingly, covering the need for her to respond to his declaration) had only given that lump more mass. Swallowing furiously, keeping her eyes on Rafael's and stroking his hand with her thumb, she choked out, her voice cracking just a little with emotion, "I think your heart's big enough for both of us."

"Let's keep that between us," he smiled warmly. "I have a reputation to maintain."

She managed a nod in response before snuggling into him, his free arm moving from the back of the couch to drape around her instead; she'd keep quiet if that was what he really wanted but she wasn't sure that Noah would be as amenable.


	6. May 2017

May 2017

Rafael smiled over the rim of his cup of coffee as Noah, kneeling forward on top of the kitchen counter, slathered more butter onto a slice of toast. The topping was spread unevenly and he was fairly sure that it had taken so long to get to this point that the toast was no longer hot but it didn't really matter: Liv would love it regardless because Noah had made it for her. Having Noah make breakfast for Liv had seemed like a good idea but he'd neglected to factor in the lack of fine motor skills of the stubborn and independent three year old (Noah's inability to tie his own shoe laces or get dressed should have been clues). The boy finally sat back, discarding the round edged butter knife onto the counter with a loud clatter, a grin plastered across his face and butter spread just as widely over almost every one of his fingers. A quick inspection of the remaining butter revealed crumbs of toast and fingerprints so clear he was sure that they'd hold up in court. "Good job, Noah," Rafael praised, before taking another swig of coffee.

"I can wake Mommy now?"

"Let's get you cleaned up a little, first," he replied and placed the mug down on the counter in favour of the dish cloth that he'd had to quickly grab when Noah had 'made' coffee (far too much milk had been added to the cup, causing the contents to spill over). There was a little bit of resistance as he wiped Noah's hands, the boy giggling as he tried to avoid the much dreaded clean up; Noah giggled again when Rafael lightly, and quite unnecessarily, ran the cloth over the boy's face once the task was completed. When Noah held up his newly clean hands toward him, Rafael helped the little boy down from the counter, setting his bare feet onto the floor with ease.

Rather than running off, Noah remained at Rafael's feet, pointing back up toward the counter at the small, brightly coloured gift bag that was out of his reach, a greasy stain on the cuff of his truck themed PJs making itself known at the same time as the boy's demand. "Present, Raf!"

Opening the gift first wasn't how he'd planned the morning's events but he figured that Liv's breakfast couldn't get any colder. Nodding in agreement, he handed the bag (which, despite its proximity, had managed to survive the worst of the breakfast preparation) to Noah and the child scurried off. Eyeing the debris on the counter he spotted Liv's card that had been forgotten in all the excitement and sighed to himself. Reclaiming his cup, he took another long draw of coffee, a smile forming on his lips as he listened to the loud chanting that now filled the small apartment.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Noah's voice echoed down the short hallway and into the kitchen, the little boy's progress measurable by the fading volume of his words. When Noah reached Liv's bedroom his voice was much quieter but Rafael could still make out the shrill, "Wake up, Mommy!"

Setting down his cup once more, and deciding to leave the card and surrounding mess for later, he headed toward the bedroom. When Liv had made it clear that Mothers Day would make little difference to what had gradually become the one day that they all spent together (the rest of the week was at the mercy of their work schedules but Sundays were now sacrosanct) he'd began formulating plans to help Noah make the day a special one for her. Her suggestion that the three of them meet up with his mother for lunch (Lucia had quickly accepted the invitation; he suspected that the flowers he had arranged to be delivered this morning wouldn't come close to spending time with Liv and Noah) had even made it possible for him to please both women today.

Arriving at the bedroom in time to witness Liv making a show of waking up for Noah (because she'd been wide awake when he'd left her earlier in the morning), he leant one shoulder against the door frame, content to watch the two people he loved most in the world.

Liv propped herself up on one arm and smiled down at her son, "What is it, sweetheart?"

"I made breakfast for you," Noah announced proudly, returning his mother's smile.

"You did?" To her credit, she feigned surprise extremely well; he hadn't told her why she needed to wait in the bedroom but children making breakfast on Mothers Day was a total cliche (though Noah had thought that it was the greatest idea ever) and she couldn't have failed to hear Noah's exuberant chattering or the excessively noisy preparations in the kitchen.

Noah nodded in response before adding on, "Raf helped me."

Rising a little further in the bed and sitting up against the pillows (revealing that she was now wearing his shirt from the previous day; she'd been naked when he'd left), Liv's eyes strayed briefly to Rafael, a smile that traversed knowing and adoring sent his way, before her gaze settled on Noah once more. "Thank you so much," she smiled, scooping up her boy and settling him down on the bed next to her, hugging him close before pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Is this for me, too?"

"Uh-huh," Noah agreed, pushing the gift bag into her hand. "For the best Mommy in the world."

From the distance of the doorway, Rafael could clearly see the tears, and the emotions, that now shone in Liv's eyes. Whilst he agreed with Noah's assertion (he had always thought, right from the moment that she had welcomed Noah into her life, that she was a good mother but the last few months had proven just how far short his estimation had fallen: she was an amazing Mom) he knew that Liv sometimes doubted herself and he was starting to understand why. Having fallen completely under Noah's spell he wanted to give the little boy the world but it felt like he could barely give him enough time.

Sometimes it seemed as if there wasn't enough hours in the day and he'd taken to leaving work early, whenever the opportunity presented itself and sometimes when it did not, so that he could spend time with Noah. And on occasion, after working late night after night, he'd go to Liv's anyway (after his first stint of babysitting she'd given him a key to her place, ostensibly so that he could help out again but they both knew that it meant something more than that) just so that he could share breakfast with both of them the following morning.

Swallowing hard, and sniffling just a little, Liv opened the gift bag and carefully extracted the box that lay nestled inside. Her breath caught in a gasp of, this time genuine, surprise when she set eyes on the contents, her attempt at regaining her composure faltering. "It's beautiful. I love it," she choked out, her thumb tracing the outline of the pendant. "And I love you, sweet boy."

Noah beamed with pride and let his Mommy fuss over him for a short while (which was not nearly long enough for Liv) before he eventually squirmed free, and then down off the bed. "Breakfast, Mommy," he reminded her, reaching up to tug on her free hand with both of his.

"Okay, Baby," Liv acquiesced and Noah let go of her hand, bolting out of the room, forcing Rafael to step aside to avoid the mini tornado, and toward the kitchen.

Sharing a smile with Liv, he remained silent and simply enjoyed the view as she pulled back the sheets, revealing the long legs that had been wrapped around him this morning. He'd been in deep with Liv right from the off and was now in serious danger of drowning but he didn't want to be anywhere else. The words that had been on the tip of his tongue since that cold January night when she'd walked into his office and rendered him almost speechless, had finally broken free a while ago though he'd been careful to downplay the moment (he didn't like to dwell on her previous relationship but he had surmised that grand romantic gestures were not the key to Liv's heart).

As she walked toward him, his shirt clinging to the curves he loved so much, he grinned wider because this gorgeous, smart, brave woman loved him, too. He been fairly sure about her feelings toward him so he hadn't needed her to reciprocate but not long after he'd said those three little words (and whilst they were snuggled up on the couch, Liv in his arms and Noah, asleep, in hers) she'd told him that she felt the same way. He'd be lying if he said that he hadn't wanted to hear the sentiment.

Liv came to a stop in front of him, holding the open box containing the necklace out toward him, her approval of the gift showing in the smile on her face, though he suspected that it wasn't as treasured as Noah's declaration, "Good choice."

"Noah picked it out," he corrected with a smirk and it wasn't exactly a lie. The idea of a necklace might have been his but once he'd persuaded Noah that Liv wouldn't really like a car-shaped pendant, it had been her son who had chosen the delicate outline of a golden heart. Dragging Noah along to a store had not been an option (previous experience in that department had proven that the three year old was more interested in garbage trucks and taxis than shopping) so they'd browsed online one evening whilst waiting for Liv to come home. Noah had even managed to keep the gift a surprise (the three year old was not known for his discretion; Liv had once stopped by his office with her son, who had proceeded to tell a very intrigued and amused Carmen all about her boss).

Taking the box from her, he released the necklace from its confines and tossed the box onto the bed. Still smiling, Liv gathered up her hair in her hands and he slipped his own over her shoulders. Securing the clasp of the necklace, he let it drop inside the collar, using his fingers to guide its descent and she let her hands drop away, the gold heart settling somewhere close to her own. Using just his forefinger he traced a slow path downward, carefully centring the pendant and then continuing down, only coming to a stop when his fingertip reached the 'V' of his shirt.

Liv shivered in response, her lips still curved into a smile and her eyes full of the same desire that had set back his plans earlier in the morning but any thoughts either of them might have had about taking the moment further (and he'd been toying with the idea of reclaiming his shirt) were abandoned when Noah hollered out from the kitchen,

"Mommy!"


	7. July 2017

July 2017

Through the walls and half open doors the low rumble was too indistinct for her to discern any words but whatever had just left Rafael's lips had her three year old giggling loudly. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at the sound: Noah's laughter was unmistakable and always a joy to hear. She manoeuvred the last button of her shirt into the hole, her smile remaining even as she glanced at the alarm clock and the glowing red numbers reminded her just how late they were all running. Leaving the bedroom, she followed the sound of her son's giggling to the kitchen, finding Noah seated at the breakfast bar, a bowl of his favourite cereal in front of him and an empty spoon in one hand. Rafael stood on the opposite side, leaning across the counter, his handsome features hidden from her view but it wasn't difficult to believe that he was smiling too.

From his vantage point, Noah spotted her first, his giggling dying down to a wide grin and then an excited, "Mommy!"

"Good morning, sweet boy," she smiled at her son, her greeting attracting Rafael's attention. They'd already said their 'good morning' (if breathy hushed pleas not to stop counted as such) but having jumped straight into the shower before Noah had stirred this was the first time she'd seen her precious boy. Rafael had volunteered to wake up Noah and then make breakfast though it seemed that progress on that front had been slow; there was still far too much cereal left in the bowl. Despite their tardiness it was difficult to be annoyed with either of them. Turning to Rafael, her smile stayed on her lips, taking the sting out of her attempt at an admonishment, "I'm going to be late and it's all your fault."

Standing straight, Rafael took a step toward her, his hands reaching for her body as he captured her mouth with his own, undeterred by her words or the presence of her son. "You weren't complaining earlier," he murmured against her lips moments later.

"This is exactly why we're behind schedule."

His hands had slipped down to her backside at the mention of behind and he grinned at her, "Because you can't resist me?"

Smirking at him she invoked her right to remain silent. Sometimes Rafael just had to look in her direction and she'd instantly want him. He made her feel like the only woman in the world and when he employed his mouth or his hands resistance was definitely the last thing on her mind. But there was a meeting with Dodds that she just couldn't avoid, a mountain of paperwork on her desk that needed conquering and Lucy wasn't available this morning which meant that one of them would have to drop Noah off with Lucia before making their way to work. And Rafael's Mom could read her like a book; she'd know exactly why they were running late. Moving her hands from his shoulders and down to his chest, but unable to find the desire to physically push him away, she pinned her hopes on him having more willpower than herself, "Bathroom's all yours."

Rafael sighed in agreement, loosening his grip on her before surprising her with an alternative. "Why don't you have breakfast while I help Noah get ready?"

Usually, when they were both due in at work they were showered and dressed before Noah even woke; it just took too long otherwise. "What about you?"

"I don't have anything that can't be pushed back an hour," Rafael replied, moving away from her to pour out another cup of coffee. By the time he'd done that, she'd moved to sit down next to her son (placing a loving kiss on the boy's cheek before encouraging him to eat another spoonful of cereal) and Rafael leant across the counter once more, placing the cup in front of her, "Plus, I want to stop by my apartment for a tie so I'll shower there."

She took a small sip of her coffee, savouring the hot liquid (it was Rafael's favourite roast and had found its way into her kitchen cupboard very early on in their relationship) as she contemplated his response. His suggestion made sense; she could drop off Noah and be on her way to the precinct in no time but, and it could just be her cop intuition kicking in, something about it was bugging her. Half of her closet was made up of his clothes, ditto the drawers, so it seemed a little far-fetched that nothing at all matched. On the other hand, she'd long since given up trying to understand how one tie was seemingly better than another, very similar looking, tie and had just accepted that the man always looked good. Even in pyjama pants and an old faded t-shirt that he kept at her apartment for mornings just like this one. "A tie?"

Rafael shrugged nonchalantly at the question and then offered, "Or a shirt. Nothing I have here matches. Noah and I checked while you were in the bathroom."

Annoyingly, he didn't crumble under the patented cop glare she was throwing across the counter and offer up any more information than that. Turning her head to the side, she smiled down at her son and Rafael's co-conspirator, "Is that right?"

Noah nodded, swallowing another mouthful of cereal before confirming Rafael's story, "Raf needs more clothes, Mommy."

Her son's collusion wasn't entirely unexpected: Noah worshipped Rafael. She'd done all she could to help nurture the bond that had grown between the two of them but the previous month had presented an unexpected quandary in that respect. Father's Day wasn't something she'd ever celebrated before but Noah, having enjoyed Mother's Day almost as much as herself, had taken an interest, asking questions that she'd struggled to answer because whilst she'd been rehearsing what to say to her little boy when he finally asked about his father ever since she'd discovered the truth, that had been pre-Rafael. It was too soon to push him into the role of 'Daddy', even if Noah would have no complaints and Rafael pretty much inhabited it already, but the notion wasn't an unwelcome one. For her, anyway; Rafael had Daddy issues that rivalled her own and she'd been reluctant to make any kind of move in that respect without discussing it with him first. But Noah's wobbly bottom lip had necessitated some sort of compromise.

Thankfully, Noah had loved the hastily put together suggestion that whilst other children might have a father he was the only boy in the world who had Rafael. 'Raf's Day' had been a success with both of her guys (Rafael hadn't objected to having a day named in his honour). There'd been a homemade card (an A4 piece of paper with mostly unintelligible crayon markings which she knew was now tucked away in Rafael's office drawer), a present (cufflinks that Noah had spent hours choosing) and an afternoon at the park (where it had been nigh on impossible for her to decide who'd had the most fun, herself included). And then later that same evening, after Noah had fallen asleep on the couch next to the man who had become such a huge part of his tiny world, she and Rafael had talked about how the day (amongst other things) could be different next year.

"More space for the clothes that I already have would work just as well," Rafael elucidated before coaxing Noah into eating another spoonful of cereal. He took a sip of coffee before meeting her eyes and adding on, in a manner that was aiming for casual but wavered enough for her to see through it, "But that would probably require a bigger apartment."

His eyes were on hers, trying to gauge her reaction as she realised exactly where he was going with this. Moving in together had been one of the 'other things' that they'd discussed but only briefly and only to the extent that it would happen someday. She briefly wondered if he had been thinking about it since Father's Day (because she certainly had) and had manipulated this morning's events as a way to broach the topic. But it didn't really matter; what did was that they were on the same page. When she'd moved in with Brian it had been for all the wrong reasons (she'd known that even before he'd unpacked the t-shirt collection that she'd had to mercilessly whittle down, as if she could somehow minimise his presence in her life, too). That wasn't the case with Rafael; the sight of his suits hanging in the wardrobe next to her own clothes only made her want more.

"It would," she agreed, and more casually than he'd managed, before offering him a teasing smile. It was a little mean of her to make him spell it out but deep inside, where she'd buried thirty years of failed relationships, she needed to hear him say it first.

Rafael smiled in response, patience and understanding warming his words, "Then maybe we should look for somewhere together? All three of us."

Beside her, Noah kicked his feet outward, hitting nothing but air as he continued to tackle his breakfast, seemingly uninterested in the conversation. Her apartment would always hold a special place in her heart because it was where she had spent those early days with her son; every inch held a reminder, from the table where Noah had first held himself upright to the door frame in his room where they'd marked his height. But she could - they could - make new memories elsewhere.

Nodding, she grinned at Rafael over her cup of coffee.


	8. September 2017

A/N Fair warning: I wanted to write angst, the muse wanted to write fluffety fluff-fluff. I lost.

September 2017

"That's it," Liv stated, removing her hands from the couch and throwing them up in the air, emphasising just how exasperated she had become. Leaving little space for Rafael to respond, she flopped down onto the couch, making her intentions clear with both her actions and words, "If you're still not happy then you can move it yourself."

Rafael worked hard to smother the smirk that was struggling to break free. Her exasperation wasn't without cause (the couch wasn't particularly heavy but it was difficult to manoeuvre and they'd already moved it twice before, the second time to restore the couch to its original starting position) but the fact that she'd humoured him for this long, as he'd strove to find the perfect place for the large leather couch in their new apartment, only made him love her more. The sight of her, in jeans and a tight fitting t-shirt, hair tied back and a faint glow about her from their exertions, made him want to christen the couch there and then (just as they'd christened the king size bed, that she'd insisted they buy, last night). Moving in together definitely had some perks that he'd not considered when he'd first brought up the subject.

"I am very happy," he replied, deserting the arm of the couch he'd been holding on to and heading toward Liv, dialling down the smirk to a smile. Sitting down beside her, one arm across the back of the couch, he kissed her sweetly before pulling back to meet her eyes as he whispered lowly and referring to more than just the couch, "And this is perfect."

"Good," Liv murmured, her exasperation fading before his eyes as a smirk crossed her own lips. "You're such a perfectionist."

He thought about denying it but it was mostly true; the closet full of three-piece suits and colour co-ordinated accessories was further proof. However, he had let some standards slip. The chasm between their definitions of 'neat and tidy' was noticeable; he'd spent months fighting a losing battle against untidiness at Liv's old apartment before finally surrendering and admitting, to himself at least, that he felt more at home there than in his own place. "You knew that when you agreed to move in with me," he smiled back, running his free hand down her thigh as he spoke.

"I did," she agreed before sighing dramatically. "You're lucky that I love you anyway."

Noah chose that moment to pop his head out of one of the cardboard boxes that were piled in the corner of the room, the flaps of the lid bouncing off the side from the force, and proclaim loudly, "I love you, Raf!" The box tipped over onto its side as the little boy clambered out though Noah remained on his feet, an outcome that allowed him to break into a full pelt across the floor of the room and toward his target.

Rafael had just enough time to relinquish his hold on Liv and catch the little boy as he leapt up onto both him and the couch. A long, tight hug ensued, the feel of a little pair of arms around his shoulders, full of unconditional love and trust and given so freely, was one of the joys in life that he'd thought he'd never want or need. Now he wasn't sure he could ever live without them (and Liv's assertion that they'd probably dwindle as Noah aged only made him treasure every one all the more). "I love you too, Noah. You and your Mommy," he whispered against the boy's head as he shared a smile with Liv. As Noah loosened his grip, sitting back a little, Rafael added on, his eyes still locked on Liv's, "Even if you two are the messiest people I know."

"We're not messy," Liv countered, humour lacing her words. "We're just more relaxed, aren't we, Noah?"

The little boy, one arm still slung around Rafael's neck and kneeling on the man's lap, met his mother's gaze and, despite not being entirely sure what he was agreeing to, offered her a wide smile, a nod and a small, "Uh-huh."

"That's my boy," Liv grinned, brushing her hand lovingly down her son's cheek before turning a triumphant gaze toward Rafael. She continued to smile as she threw his earlier words back at him, "And you knew exactly how the Bensons rolled when you suggested that we all move in together."

"I knew that it was too late for you but there's still time to teach Noah how to use a toy box," he smirked at her before turning his gaze to the little boy he'd, in between trying to unpack boxes and rearrange furniture, spent a good hour this morning pushing around in a cardboard box that had been passing itself off as a race car (before then becoming a house). It might have been easier to let his mother take Noah for the weekend but Liv had been right: this was his home, too. "What do you say, Noah? You can grow up to be just like me."

Noah nodded his head eagerly, "Okay, Raf."

"That's my boy," Rafael gloated, his eyes searching out Liv's to revel fully in his own victory. The look he received in return clearly had 'good luck with that' written all over it but it was warm nonetheless. The moment was short lived however when Noah asked a question that he hadn't anticipated.

"Are you my Daddy now?"

The question shouldn't have come as such a huge surprise (he and Liv had talked about the very same subject back in June when Father's Day had raised questions for all three of them) but Rafael struggled for words nonetheless. Fatherhood had never figured in his plans, mostly because his relationship with his own Papi had involved only hard fists and harsh words, leaving him with a pain that had settled deep in his soul, where it occasionally threatened to break out in the form of a clenched fist. Not wanting children was the reason why Yelina had chosen Alex over him and why he'd never let another woman get too close after that. It wasn't that he thought he'd turn out like his father (he could never beat a child or make them feel so worthless) but he had worried that he wouldn't be much better than his Papi. Good male role-models had been severely lacking during his childhood.

Falling in love with Liv had meant finally facing up to his past. She'd known from the outset that he had little experience with children but when they'd fallen into bed that first time and, after making love, she'd traced her finger along the scar that marred its way from his hip and onto his back, an unspoken question in her eyes, he'd told her all about the fear that had always held him back. Of course, she'd understood entirely and with her encouragement, her love and her absolute faith in him, along with her son's sweet nature, he'd fallen in love with Noah, too.

"Noah, sweetie," Liv soothed, smoothing out the silence that had followed the little boy's question. Her hand reached for her son's cheek once more, stroking the skin as she gently guided his eyes toward her own, "Just because Rafael lives with us doesn't mean that he's your Daddy."

"But he makes me pancakes for breakfast," Noah protested even as Liv's hand continued to caress his cheek. "And takes me to school. And reads me stories at bedtime. And he helps me make cool cars with Lego."

The lump in his throat grew with every reason Noah listed though it was still small in comparison to the swell that was currently consuming his heart and threatening to burst out of his chest. The desire to hold the boy close once more and tell Noah that he wanted nothing more than to be his Daddy was strong but instead of doing either of those things he turned his gaze to Liv. Back in June, they'd both been a little hesitant about taking this step and he was wary of pushing her too far or too fast just because he was ready; on the other hand, she had agreed to move in with him. "That is all true, Liv. Noah's made a strong case," he said, resisting the urge to joke that Noah would be a lawyer just like him. She smiled, almost warily, in response, her hand dropping away from her son, and feeling a little more sure of himself, he added on, "I don't have any objections."

Liv's eyes, now shining with tears, suggested that all three of them were definitely in agreement but she managed to confirm it with a rather shaky sounding, "I don't either."

Rafael grinned at her with both relief and gratitude before turning his attention to the little boy on his lap. "I would love to be your Daddy, Noah," he whispered, his voice almost as shaky as Liv's. "Now and always," he confirmed before giving in to that urge to hold the boy, to hold his son, close.

Noah returned the gesture, happy in his Daddy's arms until Rafael pressed a kiss to the boy's cheek. "That tickles, Daddy," Noah laughed, referring to the couple of day's worth of stubble that was currently residing on the lower half of Rafael's face and then, when his father repeated the gesture, he squirmed free to seek protection in his Mommy's arms. "Save me, Mommy," he giggled, clearly wanting the 'game' to continue.

"I've got you, baby," Liv murmured, holding her son tight. She flashed Rafael a grin, "I'll protect you from all of those scratchy kisses."

If the sound of Noah calling him Daddy hadn't struck him dumb he'd have said something about how much she loved his stubble laden kisses but maybe that was for the best: Noah didn't need to hear those sort of things about his parents. As he readied himself to pounce on the other occupants of the couch, it struck him that they were a family; maybe not by blood and maybe not legally (though he made a mental note to do something about that as soon as possible), but that's most definitely what they were.


End file.
